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i © © © * ^ Woman Never Eats When She Has Anything Else To Do © ML a The Last of This Great Series The Seven Mistakes of Matrimony —NO. 7- By DOROTHY DIX. T HE neventh deadly mlstak* of matrimony 1*: NOT TO MAKE MATRIMONY A PROFESSION. Perhaps the greatest mistake of all, and the one that atims all the «ther* up, constats In regarding suc cess In marriage as an accident in stead of ■ premeditated result. The moat mischievous Idea that has been promulgated Is that mar rlagc Is a lottery. In which everything Is determined by blind chance, and In which it Is a mere matter of luck whether you get a desirable life part ner or an undesirable one. or are happy or miserable. Nothing on earth Is further from the truth than this. Nowhere else does the inevitable logic of cause and effect work out so relentlessly ns In the domestic relationship. Nowhere else do we so absolutely reap as we sow as in the family circle, and. given rertaln people and certain conditions, It Is Just as demonstrable that a marriage will work out well, or badly as it Is that two and two make four. The trouble with us Is that we have never yet elevated matrimony to the dignity of a profession, for which we have thought it worth while to pre pare. That Is why we fall In the most Important thing in life. No young man would expect to m:.ke a howling success as a surgeon* or a lawyer If he had never even contem plated seriously medicine or the law, yet a poor deluded woman marries him under the impression that she is Setting a first-class husband, and ho himself has no doubt of his qualltica- tions on that score. A young woman who wants to be in opera singer devotes years of arduous labor to fitting herself to sing on the stage, but she does not spend an hour preparing herself to fill the far more difficult and complicated role of a W'lfe and mother. \ WRONG ASSI MPTIOM. People seem to think that a knowl edge of how to he good husbands and wives comes by nature, as Dogberry thought the knowledge of how to read and write did. Both assump tions are equally false. It takes effort and perspiration, as well as In spiration, to succeed in any calling, and especially the domestic calling. Undoubtedly the matrimonial situa tion would be enormously eased If men and women would begin married Ufa by a thorough understanding of Just the elementary things. If every woman knew how to keep house and make a comfortable home when she marries Instead of having to learn her trade on her husband, and if every man could be brought to real l/.e before marriage Just how much money It costs to support a family, a young couple would start out with an Infinitely better chance for happiness than they have where the wife gets hysterical over her inability to cook a meal that Isn't a menace to life It self, and where the husband Is In a perpetual grouch when it dawns on him that matrimony la conducted on a cosh basis. Instead of the hot air currency of courtship. The hope of the future Is for in telligent people to regard marriage as a profession that Is worthy of profound study, and In which it Is as much a disgraco to fail as It Is In the practise of any other profession. A SECRET. It is literally true that almost any marriage could be made happy, or at least endurable. If either husband or wife would pursue the method that he or she would in trying to attain • uccese in any profession or business, ind all that would be necessary to 1o this would be to use the same tac tics that are used In the practise of business or the professions. Take the matter of the husband's end wife’s relationship. That is merely a partnership, and all that any mar ried couple need to achieve Ideal happiness Is just to rise to the point where they can treat each other as Up-to-Date Jokes An irascible elderly gentleman or dered a bottle of hock with his lunch. **'Ock, sir?” said the waiter. “Yes, sir.’* “*Cot ’ock,” said the customer, “hock—hie, hac, hoc. I>’you under stand?'* The waiter disappeared, and acme twenty minutes elapsed, while the elderly one sat nursing his wrath to keep it warm. At last, catching the errant waiter’s eye. he yelled, furi ously : “Where’s that hock?” “ ’Ock, a*' V’ said the wailev, in a grieved ard surprised ton*. “I thought you declined iL" • * * “Doctor." said the catler. • I'm a vic tim of insomnia. Can you cure me?" “I can,” replied the physician. "But before I take the caRe 1 want to ask you one question. Are you in busi ness for yourself, or do you work for others?" “I'm employed as an assistant at a grocery," answered the patient. “Then you'll have to pay in ad vance,” said the doctor. “I'm not doubting your honesty, but after I set through with you the chances are you will sleep so soundly you’ll lose your Job. Then you can't pay me." • • « Not long ago a North-county vicar married an elderly couple at 11 o'clock in the morning At 3 in the afternoon his duties took him to the neighboring cemetery, where he met the same couple seated loving on one of the benches. “You see. sir,” the husband ex plained, “my wife Is a real 'un for a rleasure. I wanted to goo back t.. me y‘or’.y this arternoon, but th* mlimm r ’ • - r enjoy oureelv to th* Xdll and mak’ a day on ’l,” Too Very Queer People By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I haven’t been married quite a year, ami my husband ami I are very much In love with each oth er—but the worst of It is he Just wants me to be one of his family and not myself at all. He has cousins and uncles and aunts, and he thinks it’s terrible, and they all seem to think so. too, if 1 want to go anywhere with people who are no relation to any of us. I think they're queer about it— but my husband says I'm the one that's queer. Is he or am I? KINFOLKS. BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers [two men In business together do. ! Kind a husband and wife who work J together with the same Interest In 'lew, who are climbing up together, who rhare equally in the profits of ! their Joint labor, who talk things over i together and have an equal voice In I deciding things, yet who allow each other In their Individual capacity per- t-onal liberty, and you have got a husband and wife whose domestlo felicity In strong enough to draw money on at the bank. Furthermore, a man who has any Intelligence tries to get along with the people with whom be deala. If ! he was always quarrelling with hi* partner he would know that th* house ea* bound to come to disaster. Jie would be aware that if he did not exercise tact and diplomacy toward his clients that It was a mere matter | of time until the sheriff sold him out. Women know these things too, and there is nobody who is more long suf fering, and patient, and filled with forbearance than the business or professional woman who has to ca jole the men above her in order to hold down her Job. JUST SUPPOSE. * Suppose these men and women, who are so plausible and suave In order to succeed in their business should apply an equal amount of diplomacy at home; suppose these men and women, who are so careful to side step the little peculiarities of their customers, would be as nimble In sidestepping the little peculiarities of their husbands and wives, wouldn’t they make matrimony as great a suc cess as they do law, or medicine, or the grocery business? Yea, verily. We quarrel with those with whom we live beenuae we do not think It worth while to keep the pence. We say brutal things to them because there Is no money In our pocket for being polite We wound them in their tender sensibilities be- cause they can’t get away from us, anyway. We make marriage a fail ure because we are too Ignorant and lazy and careless to malts it a success. And the shame is on our own heads. It ought to be Just as much a reflec tion upon any man’s or woman's abil ity to be a bankrupt In domestic hap piness ns a bankrupt In business. And it will be when we take marriage out of the amateur data and put It In the professional. (Novelized by) (From the nlay by George Scar borough. now being presented nf the Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York. Serial rights held and copyrighted by International News Service.) TO DAY’S INSTALLMENT. M *E started toward her—he would execute a flank maneuver and • drive the wounded creature into a corner. “Give it to me!” ordered Flagg. Flagg, with murder and lust fighting for place In hls evil eyes. The wounded animal at bay—driven to the wall fights hard. “You’re choking me!” the girl man aged to articulate. Tighter, tighter closed the fingers. “You’ll be unconscious soon," gloated iter captor, “and then I’ll have my way and my pay, my fine lady.” Frenzied, desperate, the girl reversed the paper file and plunged the long, sharp end into Flagg’s breast. He stag gered back—and In the suddenness of her release Aline fell across the table. m w • ■ 111 At last Aline roused herself from her argy. Fear impelled her. The instinct her—and she turned to escape. shrouding leth- escape claimed Then as she faced the door to and safety—just as she stood under the full glare of the cen ter chandelier and was face to face (if she had lifted her tired eyes) with Flagg’s masterpiecce of art, the painting of Justice —just then, there was a blinding flash! w tELL, the chances are, Kinfolks, ' that you’re both queer—most people are when you come right down to It. But, from my point of view, your husband is the queerest of the two. Kinfolks are all very well ,ln their way, but what’s the use of limiting your life to them ami to them alone? Why not broaden out your circle of friends and learn something differ ent while you are about the business of living? I know some people-- let’s call them Smith well, the Smiths never talk about a thing on earth but their ’’in laws’’ and the queer things their “in laws'' are always doing, or saying, or looking or being, and the only queer tiling that l can see about most of the “in-laws’ is that they weren't born by the name of {Smith and haven’t the Smith nose or the Smith haven't the Smith nose or the Smith faculty of putting up Jam. or the Smith memory for figures—that’s all, Now, don’t you be like the Smiths, little sister, and don’t you let your husband be like them, either. Make your ow n circle of friends -don’t say mean things about your “in-laws”— don't even think them—just be so busy with your own friends and ’he friends you hope to make for that nice husband of yours that you haven’t time to think very’ much about it one way or the other, it is the woman’s place to make the friends of the fami ly—it is your business to have pleas ant friends and acquaintances—if not for your own sake, tor your hus band’s. ChooSF them—ask them to vour M*- tle flat—have some simple little re freshment—a cup of really good cof fee and some thin slices of bread and butter are not to be sneezed at, let me tell you. Re friendly and unaf fected and kind and you’ll soon have so many friends that you won’t know what to do. Then hang on to them—for they’re about all there is in the world that makes life worth living Misunderstood. It was at a country ball at which the regular printed ball program, with the dainty little pencil attached, was being used for the first time. A young fellow from the city, noting that a stout and not very attractive young woman was being a good deal of a wall flower, took pity on her and said: “Is your program full?” “My what?” “Your program." After a moment s reflection she said: "La, no.' 1 ain’t et but one dough nut!” "What the h 1 do you think I am?” She thrust the infamous yet precious pink paper into the bosom of her gown, caught back the clinging, impelling soft draperies and fled in wild effort to escape her pitiless hunter fled to the great door toward the outside world toward sanctuary and Home! In His Hand. - She reached the threshold, her fingers fumbled against the wood touched the knob and Judson Flagg reached her in an evil, spiderlike leap and caught her white wrist in a quick, twisting grasp Innocence can not bear the physical horror of the clammy touch of evil. “Don’t put your hand on me!” •creamed Aline, shrill with horror and degrading fear. That this creature of •lime and crime should touch her! “I'll put both hands on you- you vix en!" cried ihe man.. This was a game fish, thought he it struggled-well, more Joy when he landed it In hls arms and at hls feel lie caught the, girl in his arms. He drew her roughly and violently into an evil embrace and set his lips on hers with the menace of hls tainted life for her sweet youth. “That letter! That—or my days by the sea''' he said “Give up my girl— V have you!’’ “I won’t! 1 won't!” cried Aline. Her desperate resistance taxed his wasted and disipttted strength, he dragged her from the door, over to his heavy table, he forced her slender body back against his edge. Dully she felt the bruising pain of the wood. In the grim light of the room they struggled, untaxeg youth with clean longings and aspirations against wary age. with evil desire and overtaxed and oiitworn energy. To which the victory, and would vic tory not mean defeat, too? The girl was a creature at bay. Life, honor, happiness, a chance for existence were being hunted by a merciless crea ture who would scarcely enjoy the fruit of his victory To Aline that fight was for more than life, to the man it was less than dust, and there was a price both must pay. Aline freed her arm. She groped wildly for a weapon She must have aid. Her woman's strength was going She was fighting in a struggle for which life had offered her no training. Her blindly, groping hand knocked papers and books to the floor; wild disarray claimed the desk and room. Flagg’s heel ground deep into one of the cap tain's roses. Suddenly he pinioned her free arm back of her. The pain was excruciating —but she could boar it —for her fingers had closed on cold heavy metal—a great iron bill--file. She shrieked hysterically, and he loosed her arm to draw her whole form closer—to kiss her again. “Let me go! Let me go!" She struck him on the shoulder with the flat base of the bill-holder. “Put that down! I'll break your j arm!” She gave a sob of pain and stuck at his forehead. In a fury he laid his long j rapacloug fingers on her white throat, j “And jour d n neck, loo!” kissed j Horror marked her face. What had sho done? She had been at bay—she had fought —and now grim struggle was to be fol lowed by grimmer quiet. “Ah—ah -try,” gasped Flagg, “to murder me!” He staggered to his feet from the chair into which he had fallen In utter collapse. “I didn't want to hurt you!” breathed Aline, in a whisper of horror. WHAT, WHAT HAD SHE DONE? she questioned her fast beating heart. WHAT HAD SHE DONE? “I didn’t want to hurt you!” she moaned. Tall and slim and white, like a withering lily, she stood by the mas sive desk. Her brown gold hair had fallen In disarray from its coronal on her head. Her eyes were wide with terror—her lips were bleached. WHAT HAD SHE DONE? “Tommy!” called Judson Flagg He sank into the chair again, his face distorted with pain, his hand fumbling, fumbling to pull the long needlelike file from his breast. Paralyzed by fright and fascinated by horror, Aline stood and watched him. Strangely enough, he had become the victim now’. Suddenly there was a wrench, a spurt of blood, and Flagg pulled the needle point from his breast. He staggered toward tiie desk and Aline shrank away at his approach. Flagg seized the edge of the desk for support—anjj, too late, the girl, who had moved away, divined his purpose, for he caught her emerald brooch In his left hand. Then, still clutching the weapon of doom as he had pulled it from his breast, he be gan groping—groping—- At last Aline roused herself from her shrouding lethargy. Fear Impelled her. The Instinct to escape claimed her —and she turned to escape. Then as she faced the door and safety—Just as she stood under the full glare of the center chandelier and was face to face (if she had lifted her tired eyes) with Flagg’s masterpiece of art, the paint ing of Justice—just then, there was a blinding flash! Flagg’s groping hand had found the electric button! He gasped for breath-and then, with a final chuckle. Judson Flagg spoke his epilogue to life. “1 got your brooch—and I got your picture for the police!” The noise of the explosion died—the light faded again. "Tommy!" screamed Judson Flagg— gurgling the death agony. But he voiced his cry to the one human being who loved him. “Coming—Uncle Judson!” came a far-off voice. The girl fled back into the shrouding night. She tnhde her way to the home she had left that fear might be de stroyed and, instead, fear triumphed. What had she dune? Across the table in a grim den of gloom sprawled Judson Flagg—dark, saturnine, like a giant spider, and in hls hand was tlie emerald brooch Gor don Graham had given his wife when their baby girl was born. But across the table, a tiny stream of blood was trickling toward the bills—the $200 that had been too small a price for honor— or life. Silence and darkness! Then a boy’s anguished cry—“Uncle Jud! Uncle Jud! bpeak to me! Uncle Jud! DEAD! MURDERED!” The flash of light from every corner of the gloomy chamber, the jar of an opening window, a quick glance up and down the empty street, and then a bov s trembling voice stanliad to a w.id scream. Police * * * The Secret Service. In the office of the Chief of the Se cret Service of the United States three men. sat talking. They were Captain Larry Holbrook, Chief Dempsey and Father Shannon. “Larry,” said the chief, “you have been attested once by this Govern ment.” There was a bit of quiet In sinuation in his tone. ’Yes, Chief, once in New Orleans. You arrested me for trying to get some rifles over to General Garcia. But re member this, six months later the Uni ted States sent the w r hole army over ori the same job.” "But the Government regarded you as an offender then,” went on the insinu ating voice. “Not too much to make me a cap tain in the Philippine constabulary a year •later." "Why did you quit—your GOVERN MENT job?” went on Dempster. "Something in the blood.” "Fever?’ "Born there—I couldn’t ride herd on a people fighting for their own liberty. You see. Chief, if 1 were two years Old er I'd been born in Ireland. As it was 1 was born on Second avenue. Oppres sion drove my father from home. I think it was the stories I heard at my mother’s knee that made me ready to take filibustering jaunts UNDER A FLAG FOR FREEDOM. THAT MADE ME A PERPETUAL MEMBER OF THE MINORITY.” "He is that," said Father Shr nuon, warmly, "the rascal saved my lift- in Manila. I was in the minority’ and the flames w’ere a vast majority’!” "What nonseryse. I made him get out of bed when a house was on fire." "He carried ine unconscious -” be gan Father Shannon. “Some friend is apt to do as much for me any Saturday night,” laughed the merry Irish lad of 38. “Chief, he touches no drop!” said Father Shannon, and a twinkle came to the chief's eye. “Holbrook!’’ said he, “there's a big expedition on foot for Nicaragua. What can you tell me about it?” There was a steady gleam in his eye—he would not be denied. "Dutch Dugan busy again!” exclaimed the captain. “That’s the man. but we can’t get our hands on him, captain.” "I’d tell you, Bob, if I knew, but ” The two men eyed each other, and the steady twinkle never faded from Larry Holbrook’s eyes. "But tell your men to go easy with Dugan. He’s not a bad chap!” The chief smiled, and a glint of steel came into his eyes and over the settled lines of his mouth. In the further office a telephone sounded its insistent call. "Excuse me. gentlemen," said the chief with grave courtesy Holbrook turned to the father. “Well now. I’ll tell you something in confi dence, as a man to his priest, mind ye. in the most sacred confidence. You will give it?” Father Shanon smiled. "You know well you can trust me. Larry.” “Well—then—I AM DUGAN’S expedi tion!” "You. me lad?” To Be Continued Monday. CHICHESTER S PILLS r-C-'V THK UIAMONU . , ---B.1»UM©!*» BRAND. A.A Jon, »,o,,l.| for Diamond Brand. I HU in Itrd and Bold mcttUic sealed with Blue Ribbon. THE FAMILY CUPBOARD A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York [Novelized byl (From Owen Davis’ play now being pre sented at the Playhouse, New York, by William A Brodv —Copyright, 1$13, by International News Service.) TO-DAY'S INSTALLMENT “Ken!” she said In her sweet ca- denced voice—the music inherited from the far off isle of Erin, the Gaelic tones that come down through long genera tions to the daughters of Ireland. "Mary!” The boy leaped to his feet. His shoul ders straightened to manhood, his eyes filled with purpose, with some dim emo tion he scarcely sensed as he faced hls boyhood sweetheart, the only loyal friend of hls whole wasted young life. "Mary!” It was as If sunshine and the breath of springtime had come with Mary Burk to his garish gloomy and tobacco poi soned rooms. "Thank you, Mary, for Just—coming —here,” said the boy in a dumb misery that was brightened with perfume and sunshine that he felt were across a high wall he might never climb. There were roses In the garden spot that was Mary’s lifer-well, he thought, he’ might Inhale the perfume for one more min ute—and then good-bye to Mary Burk. But a love like Mary Burk's never dies —and perhaps, perhaps—"quien sabe?” —who knows what It was yet to mean to Kenneth Nelson? The boy stood staring at her as at some wonderful vision. Mary laughed bit—and softly and kindly to relieve the tension. “Ken, I read your letter to your mother.” "Did you?” said the boy, nervously— ill at ease before this girl who breathed the purity and fine sw’eetness that he had unconsciously been missing from his life. “Did you—the last one—you mean It —it was funny—wasn't it, Mary?” “It was very sad, Ken—it almost broke her heart—and mine,” added Mary in a frightened little hushed under tone. “She did not even answer it,” said the boy. "But you cared, you sympa thized, Mary!” He concluded his sen tence with an abrupt self-consciousness that a tender tone was creeping from his hungry heart to his voice. And what right had he to talk tenderly to a girl like Mary Burk? "She could not! She just could not! She is very proud, Kenneth, and very unhappy. She could not send you mon ey to spend on something of which she did not approve—and your father has written asking her not to help you.” “My Tat her has written to her? Why, they anf getting together over the prod igal.” exclaimed Kenneth, cynically. "No!” said Mary, sadly. "I had to read that letter to her and we did nol answer it. And it only said not to Help you under the—circumstances. He Is proud, too!” And Mary, who had the fine pride that is ashamed only of a wrong Intention and an evil deed, sighed at the tangle of life that held the people she loved as if they were lost in a noisome jun gle. Kenneth's pride flared anew. "I won’t ask again!” he declared, stubbornly. “I felt that—so I came. I am not proud, you see, Ken. I have some n ,, n . ey here. Not much—but it is quite quite my own. I’ll leave it, Ken.’’ The girl took a little roll of bills from her bag and dropped It on the table. "NO!” There was surprise mingled with horror of what he had become in his tone. But Kenneth Nelson knew that Mary Burk was offering him the kindest, truest friendship his life was i ever to know. “Why not? We have ben friends *1- I ways. You can pay me big interest. It will be a good Investment,” ooexed the girl, trying to make her love offer- i Ing appear only a business transaction "as man to man.” “NO!” “How silly! I would not hesitate to ask a favor of you! I—I will never hesitate to come to you If I am In need of a true friend, Ken. Why, you are more than that—you are almost like my brother!” When a woman wants to serve th« man she loves with that peerless devo tion that can come only once in a life time—with that love that most men, worthy or unworthy, miss—she will de ny her love—she will call him “friend” and “brother” so that he may the more willingly accept the sacrifice that puts his love beyond her claiming, and gives it to the woman he has chosen. The door to the side corridor opened. With a little air of being perfectly at home, Kitty May entered the room. The Two Girls. At sight of Mary she affected pretty confusion. “Hello!” she began—“Oh! I “ she trailed off. Mary turned and looked at her. Then with a friendly little gesture she step ped forward. “This is Kitty?” she asked. Kenneth living his head in the most genuine shame he had ever felt, at the thought of what he had done with his life for love—if love It could be called — of Kitty May. "You’d better go,” he said. “Why?” asked Mary genuinely. Kitty braced herself against the table and spoke with a hard little show of bravado. “Because all his fine friends are mo proud to know me.” Mary smiled gently. Some of the sweetness of that old-fashioned flower garden was wafted to Kenneth’s imagi nation again. The two girls faced each other. The boyhood sweetheart—the girl he might have loved, except that the sun of Mrs. Charles Nelson, leader of society, could not marry hls mother's social secretary, was smiling with gen tle kindness on Kitty Claire. And the girl whose evil spell, like a fog from the sea, had hidden shoals and rocks from the eyes of that same boy, was staring back at Mary with insolent hardness. Kenneth had a queer little vision of a thin alley cat, eyes aflame, back up, spitting and snarling and scratching at the little child who was stooping with friendly hand to smooth ruffled fur. Be dashed hls hand across his eyes—what a fool he was, thought he—seeing gar dens and fogs and cats and smiling chil dren with trusting eyes! This was Just Mary and Kitty! Just Mary and Kitty-< but the good and the bad angels of hi• life would war for him to-day. Mar* and Kitty! Which would win? To Be Continued Monday. lake n» other Buy or jeer V ,f ' AsIcforCIlI-Cl/EM.TEIt’fl diamond brand pills," years known as Best. Safest, Always Reliab SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHF* Woman Is interested and should know about the wonderful Marvel 5 1 ,r *’ Douche Ask yonrdruggist for It. If he cannot sup ply the MARVEL, accept no other, but send stamp for book. S*r*el U, 44 E, 23<i St.JU. An Opportunity 'ToMakeM oney iaventors. men of ideas and iavortve ability. shouW wnta to day me oar list of nwaflosi needed, aid pmw offered by leading manufacturers. _ .,?*.!?■, U * eol " d ««r (n returned. "Wit S.*e IsvMton How I* Got You, Palest ud Yw Moist." otfc.r valuable booklet, seat free to uv address KODAK FOR XMAS I $5 to $65 Brownies $1 to $12. Send for | somglefe catalog to-day. SPECIAL ENLARG ING OFFER—6'ax8' 2 . mounted, from any " *. 3#c. kodak negative. A K HAWKES CO./ 01 ** 0E ” • ATLANTA Schedules Change Dec. 7, 1913 ON AND AFTER SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7TH, CENTRAL OF GEORGIA RAILWAY TRAINS WILL LEAVE ATLANTA, FROM TERMINAL STATION, AS FOLLOWS, EXCEPT AS NOTED: No. 2, 8:00 a. m — DAY EXPRESS, for Macon, Savannah, Al bany, Americus, Jacksonville and intermediate points. Parlor Car to Albany, Ga. No. 98, 9:47 a. m.—DIXIE LIMITED, first train December 8, for Macon, Cordele, Tifton, Waycross and Jacksonville. Observa tion Library Car, Pullman Sleeping Cars, Dining Car and Coaches to Jacksonville, Fla. No. 10, 12:30 p. m.—For Macon, Milledgeville, Millen, Valdosta, Americus, Albany and intermediate points. Parlor Car to Macon, Ga. No. 12, 4:00 p. m'.—For Griffin, Macon and intermediate points. Parlor Car to Macon, Ga. No. 94, 8:30 p. m.—DIXIE FLYER -For Macon, Cordele, Tif ton, Waycross and Jacksonville. Observation Library Car, Pullman Sleeping Cars and Coaches. No. 4, 9:00 p. m.—NIGHT EXPRESS—For Macon and Savan nah. Connects at Macon with G. S. & F. for Cordele, Tifton, Val dosta and Palatka. Sleeping Car to Savannah, Ga., and Palatka, Fla. No. 32, 10:10 p. m.—SOUTH ATLANTIC LIMITED For Ma con, Cordele, Tifton, Waycross and Jacksonville. Sleeping Cars and Coaches to Jacksonville. Broiler Buffet Car serves breakfast Tifton to Jacksonville. NO 8, 11:45 p. m.—MIDNIGHT MAIL—For Macon, Americus, Albany, Thomasville, Dawson. Cuthbert, Eufaula amt Southwest Georgia and East Alabama points. Pullman Sleeper to Thomasville, Central Sleeper to Montgomery. NOTE.—All trains will arrive in Atlanta at Terminal Station. a» at present, except No. 15 from Macon, Southwest Georgia ami East Alabama points will arrive at 7 :55 p. m. instead of 8:10 p. m , and Np. 99, DIXIE LIMITED, from Jacksonville, Waycross, Tifton, Cordele and Macon, will arrive (first train December 9th'l 8 :03 p. tn- NOTE—No. 4, NIGHT EXPRESS, for Macon and Savannah, carrying Savannah and Palatka Sleepers, will leave at 9:00 p. m. instead of 9:35 p. m. No. 98, DIXIE LIMITED, first train South, will leave Atlanta Monday, December 8th. For additional information, ask the TICKET AGENT, comer Peachtree and Marietta streets, and at Terminal Station. W. H. FOGG, District Passenger Agent, Atlanta, Ga. CENTRAL OF GEORGIA RAILWAY